


The Other Guy

by reitoei



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor, Jealousy, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 16:36:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11993703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reitoei/pseuds/reitoei
Summary: Todd meets Dirk's previous assis-friend.





	The Other Guy

**Author's Note:**

> To be perfectly honest this is more gen than m/m but the intention was gay so let's call it pre-slash.

It’s not that Todd naively thinks that he’s Dirk’s only friend, ever. Okay, so maybe the thought occurs to him sometimes when Dirk does something especially obnoxious, but he doesn’t doubt that Dirk’s particular brand of charm has netted him friends before this. It’s just that Dirk doesn’t talk much about _the past_ and its assorted traumas, so Todd is surprised when a particular name keeps cropping up in casual conversation.

“Who is this Archie guy, anyway?” He says when Dirk finishes his story, complete with grandiose elaboration and a few things that would be unbelievable to the most charitable listener.

Dirk shrugs in a transparent effort to be casual about it, which sets off _so_ many alarms. “Oh, just a buddy of mine.”

In his posh accent it sounds ridiculous. Todd lifts his eyebrows. “Must’ve been a pretty good buddy if he came to bail you out of _that_.”

“Well, yes,” Dirk says, as if the possibility has only just occurred to him. “I suppose he was.”

Their drinks arrive at that point and Todd drops the subject, but he’s reminded of it the next time Dirk drops the name.

“Wait, what did Archie do?” Todd grabs the oh-shit handle as they careen up over the curb and around the corner. Dirk drives like it’s a competitive sport. “Jesus, take it easy! Maybe I should drive next time.”

“No way,” Dirk says. “Your job title is assistant, not driver.”

“You just want to drive the Camaro because it’s pretty and it goes fast,” Todd says accusingly.

“Naturally,” Dirk agrees. “Anyway, as I was telling you, Archie called the centre and pretended to be Britney Spears’ agent. It was surprisingly effective. I guess he did a pretty convincing impression of a guy who knows what he’s talking about. So we got into the show!” He wrenches the wheel around again and the car squeals as they zoom around another corner. “Where are we going again?”

“To the natural history museum, because you wanted to see the owls?” Todd wrinkles his brow.

“Oh, right. I have to admit, that was sort of a made-up thing so that we could go for a drive,” Dirk says. “Let’s take the highway! I bet the Camaro has excellent acceleration.”

“We’re going to die,” Todd groans. “We’re going to get in an accident with a traffic cam and die.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic! _Archie_ believed in my driving skills.” Dirk takes them up the on-ramp at full speed and Todd shuts his eyes.

“Archie clearly needed his head checked out!”

After that, Dirk takes every opportunity to bring up his mysterious friend. If Todd is being honest, it starts to get to him. ‘Archie’ sounds like a great guy—friendly, outgoing, and cheerful, and Dirk has plenty of other good things to say about him, too. It’s not that Todd is _jealous_ , per se, but he is irritated that Dirk has to talk about him _every time_ they go out.

“It’s getting a bit annoying, isn’t it?” he asks Farah when Dirk is off getting their drinks.

“What is?” She stares at him blankly. Amanda has deigned to join them tonight and Farah keeps glancing over at her on the dance floor. Todd doesn’t really know what’s going on with them and that sucks worse the feeling he gets every time Dirk waxes on about his friend—but right now he mostly wishes Farah was better able to keep up with the conversation.

“I just mean that he talks about Archie a lot,” Todd says. “It’s kind of ridiculous.”

“Who the heck is Archie?”

Todd frowns. “The guy he’s always going on about, his friend from L.A.? The one who bailed him out of jail that one time and helped him find the pygmy rat breeders in the case with the murdered heiress?”

“The case he didn’t solve?” Farah asks. “I guess he wasn’t a very good assistant.”

“Sounds like a good friend, though,” Todd grumbles.

“You’re jealous.” She turns to him finally, a smug smile on her face. “I get it. Maybe you should try being less of an asshole to him.”

“I’m not—!” Todd protests. He’s _trying_ , but it doesn’t come naturally to him. Plus, Dirk doesn’t make it easy. He’s sure Dirk pushes his buttons on purpose.

“You kind of are,” Farah points out. “Maybe Dirk’s trying to tell you something, if this Archie fellow was so nice.”

Todd sighs and finishes his beer. “Maybe,” he says glumly. Before he can drift any further into melancholy, Dirk returns, practically bouncing. He’s taken to ‘going out’ like a duck to water, which probably shouldn’t surprise Todd.

“Drinks all around!” Dirk hollers, holding fresh beers aloft.

He drops into the seat beside Todd. Amanda follows close behind, flushed and sweaty and grinning.

“This place has a good vibe!” She pushes her hair out of her face. Her eyeliner is smudged and she’s wearing her too-big leather jacket and Farah is staring at her, eyes wide.

Todd takes a beer from Dirk and drinks half of it in one go, momentarily distracted from his own troubles by Farah’s pining after his sister and his incredibly conflicted feelings about that.

But Farah’s words stay with him until the next morning, and he thinks she might have a point. He could try to be nicer to Dirk. It couldn’t be that hard.

He starts by downing two Advil and texting Dirk to meet him at the diner down the street.

“Did you think of something we should investigate?” Dirk asks when they get their table.

Todd shrugs uncomfortably. “Not exactly.”

“Is Farah meeting us?”

“No,” Todd mumbles.

“Amanda?”

“The boys picked her up last night, remember?” He’s starting to regret this. Dirk is pretty sharp for a guy who finds most of his clues by accident, and perhaps worse than that, he’s stubborn. Todd can’t deflect him. “I thought it would be nice to just… hang out.”

“Oh!” Dirk leans back against the booth seat and a pink flush settles on his cheeks, which gives Todd a peculiar squirming feeling in his stomach. “Alright. Yes, that does sound nice.”

“Good.” Todd offers him a tentative smile. “My treat.”

Dirk raises a finger. “Technically, Farah’s treat, since she pays both of us.”

Todd scowls at his coffee and Dirk lowers his finger.

“But… it’s the thought that counts?” he offers.

To Todd’s dismay, being nice to Dirk is _easy_. It’s easy to offer him the last half of his milkshake, or buy him snacks when they fill up at the gas station, or help him write thank-you notes to all the members of the church involved in their last case without complaining _too_ much. And every time he does something nice Dirk gets this look on his face like he wasn’t expecting it and it makes Todd feel like crap. Because Dirk does deserve nice things; he’s a nice person. And Todd is supposed to be his best friend, not bring him down.

And then he goes all pink, which is worse, because Todd likes that. A lot. That’s _definitely_ not best friend behaviour.

After a couple weeks of this, though, Dirk starts getting suspicious. He starts doing the thing where he approaches the problem from five different angles like Todd won’t notice if he sneaks it into the conversation and Todd can almost hear the gears turning in his head every time he brushes it off.

“Do you not want the donut?” Todd asks, almost adding _Because I’ll eat the damn thing_ except that that’s not nice.

“I do,” Dirk says, drawing out the ‘do’ into a three syllable word the way he does when he’s hesitant. “But maybe… I shouldn’t eat so many sweets?”

He phrases it as a question, like this is a test. Todd takes a deep breath and tries to remain level-headed.

“It’s cherry-filled,” he reminds Dirk.

“I _like_ cherry-filled donuts,” Dirk agrees.

“Just take it,” Todd says with a sigh, shaking the bag.

Dirk reaches out and takes the bag delicately, like he thinks it’s going to bite him. He opens the driver’s side door and gets in while Todd pumps the gas. When Todd goes inside to pay he looks back at Dirk; he’s eating the donut slowly and he’s got his _detective-ing_ face on. He’s also got powdered sugar on his nose.

-

They’re out by themselves tonight, since Amanda is indisposed and Farah has claimed a headache. Todd suspects that this actually isn’t her scene at all—in fact, it’s not exactly his scene anymore, either. But Dirk seems to thrive in noisy, crowded bars.

In any case it’s just the two of them at this place Dirk suggested and they’re sitting almost side by side in a round booth, drinking a pint each and listening to the crappy music. There’s not much of a dance floor at this place, just a few couples, but the band is live and Todd doesn’t mind it.

Dirk keeps leaning over and pointing people out to him and making up stories about their lives, which Todd finds increasingly hilarious as he gets more and more tipsy.

“I bet _she’s_ got pet birds,” Dirk says, pointing at a woman in a pale blue polka-dotted dress. “She looks like the kind of person who would have birds. Loads of them, probably.”

“Don’t point,” Todd laughs, smacking Dirk’s wrist down. “It’s rude. She looks perfectly normal, anyway.”

“That’s how they get you!” Dirk takes a sip of his beer and licks the foam off his upper lip with a pink tongue. Todd looks away. “You think they’re all ordinary-looking, and then _bam_! So many birds.”

“Dirk? Dirk Gently?” Todd looks up. There’s a man at their table, a tallish fellow with close-cropped dark curls, wearing green pants and a periwinkle blue shirt that’s been crisply ironed. “Oh my God, I thought I’d never see you again!”

Dirk goes wide-eyed. “Archibald?” he says weakly.

“Yeah, it’s me! I just came up from L.A. this week for my job, thought I’d stop by Seattle on my way to D.C. What are you doing here? You totally dropped off the map.”

“Uhh.” Dirk floundered. “I… am visiting Todd, here. Todd, this is Archie. Archie, my good friend Todd.”

He waves between them with a nervous smile. Todd holds out a hand, because he’s not a neanderthal.

“Nice to meet you, Archie.”

Archie beams and shakes his hand vigorously. “Oh, the pleasure is all mine! Any friend of Dirk’s is a friend of mine.”

“Why don’t you, um, join us,” Todd suggests when it becomes clear that Dirk isn’t going to.

Archie hesitates. “Well, I would hate to intrude…”

“We are rather busy,” Dirk says.

“Actually, we aren’t at all,” Todd contradicts him. “Sit down, I’ll get you a beer. I’m sure you guys have a lot of catching up to do.”

Dirk is giving him a pleading look for no reason he can see, because Archie seems perfectly normal, if a bit too cheerful—also, he’s dying to know why Dirk talks about him _all the time_. So it’s really not his fault. He avoids Dirk’s gaze studiously and gets up, taking his wallet with him.

By the time he gets back with three pints, the two of them haven’t made any headway at all on a conversation. Dirk takes his pint immediately and drinks a third of it in one go, and Archie offers Todd an apologetic smile as if he’s the one who should be making an excuse for Dirk’s behaviour.

“So, Dirk, how’s your mother?” he asks. “I thought you’d still be in England with her.”

Dirk sets his glass down. “Oh, fine, yes. She’s doing very well. No sense in me staying there.”

“But she had Alzheimer's?” Archie raises his eyebrows quizzically.

“Well, I suppose she’s better now that she’s forgotten all of us,” Dirk blusters. Todd stares at him. It’s like the Dirk he knows has been replaced by a completely different, untruthful, uncharitable version of himself. Actually, it’s kind of like Dirk has been replaced by _him_. “Less on her mind, you see.”

“Ah.” Archie hums in understanding, although Todd isn’t sure there’s anything _to_ understand. That doesn’t make a bit of sense. “And the detective agency? Still going strong?”

“Of course!” Dirk says, some of his previous cheer returning. “I’ve got business cards now.”

He pulls one out of the breast pocket of his jacket and hands it over.

“Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency,” Archie reads. “Fantastic! Looks like you’ve gone professional. Not like back in the day, right? I remember putting up all those flyers around the University campus the one summer and all we got was this old lady who called us to help her find her dog.”

He chuckles. Dirk purses his lips and says, “It’s not like that at all anymore. I’ve got employees now, and a patron.” He puffs up a bit and Todd can’t help smiling into his drink. “You might even say we’ve become a success.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Archie says with a genuine smile. “And what do you do, Todd?”

“I’m, uh.” He casts around. Dirk is giving him a wide-eyed look and shaking his head minutely. “I’m in a band.”

“Oh, wow, that’s so cool!” Archie enthuses. He leans in. “Are you famous?”

Todd laughs nervously. “Hardly. Just a few gigs here and there, you know. Enough to pay the bills.”

“Anyway this sure has been nice, but you’ve probably got things to do and people to see,” Dirk says abruptly, giving Archie a somewhat forced smile. “Wouldn’t want you do miss your appointments and such.”

“Actually, I’m free all evening,” Archie tells him, cheerily oblivious. “Which is great, because we’ve got so much to catch up on!”

Dirk winces.

-

Archie turns out to be pretty fun, actually. He works as a pharmaceutical sales rep, which sounds like the world’s most boring job to Todd, but he has some hilarious travel stories.

Also he buys them drinks, and then shots, and after that even Dirk seems to warm up to him a bit. Todd gets drunk enough that he’s having trouble keeping his story straight, but luckily Archie is also drunk and he doesn’t even seem to notice when Todd slips up and drops a mention of one of his and Dirk’s adventures.

Dirk is weirdly quiet, but Todd is having a good time and he doesn’t understand what Dirk has against this guy, so he doesn’t do much more than give him a few significant looks. Dirk frowns into his beer every time.

“Any wacky cases, then?” Archie asks Dirk at some point during the night. This seems to perk him up.

“Well, there was this one with a busload of nuns and a pet alligator,” he chirps, sitting upright. “You wouldn’t believe what they were doing with it. It started with an anonymous phone call, you see, because the Reverend didn’t want anyone to know what was going on.”

Todd is impressed by his vocabulary when drunk. He’s less impressed when he realizes that Dirk is writing him out of every story—because, of course, if he’s just visiting his good pal Todd then Todd can’t possibly be his partner in crime, or rather, crime-solving.

Archie seems fascinated, but Todd’s good mood slowly drains away as the stories go on.

“You really caught the guy all by yourself?” Archie goggles at Dirk.

“Yep!” Dirk lifts his chin. He hadn’t—Todd had chased the guy around the corner and Dirk had leapt on him like a gangly octopus, and it had taken both of them to wrangle him into submission. “Zip-tied him and left him for the police.”

“You’re like a real private eye,” Archie says. “You’ve changed so much since we worked together. We were a couple of screw-ups back then, weren’t we?”

He chortles into his glass.

“Worked together?” Todd asks, alarms suddenly going off in his head.

‘’Oh, yeah, Dirk didn’t tell you? He wasn’t always a lone wolf. I used to be his assistant, back in L.A. Assistant-slash-friend, I guess,” he says. “What did you call it, Dirk? Assis-friend?”

Dirk smiles weakly. “Yes, something like that.”

His eyes dart between Archie and Todd. Todd feels like he’s going to be sick.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” He clambers out of the booth and gets to his feet shakily. “Excuse me.”

In the bathroom he wretches into the toilet while his stomach roils. God, he isn’t used to drinking this much anymore. With a groan, he props his head on the cool metal wall of the toilet stall. The world is spinning a bit. He really wishes it would stop. Standing up, he suspects, was a terrible mistake.

“You’re going to give yourself pinkeye,” Dirk says from behind him. “That’s _so_ unsanitary.”

He loops and arm around Todd and heaves him to his feet. He makes Todd wash his hands and face and practically carries him out of the bathroom, although Todd’s too upset to be thankful right now.

“He was your,” he waves his hand. “Your assistant—thing. You didn’t tell me.”

“Yes, well,” Dirk says. He hesitates. “Let’s just go home.”

They stop by the table to grab Todd’s jacket, and Dirk makes excuses for them.

“He’s just had a bit too much, you know, doesn’t know his own limits,” Dirk says apologetically.

Todd raises his hand. “Still here,” he says from where he’s slumped against Dirk’s side. “Can still hear you.”

Dirk pats his cheek. “I should get him home.”

“Yeah, of course,” Archie says. “Man, it was good seeing you again. We should catch up next time I’m in town! Here’s my business card. Bring Todd, he’s great.”

“Certainly,” Dirk says with forced enthusiasm. “Would love to. So sad we have to run. Thanks for the beers!”

He hustles Todd away.

“Don’t understand why you’re such a jerk to him,” Todd mumbles as they push through the crowd.

“I’m not!” Dirk protests. “He’s just so… nice. And cheerful. Here, put your jacket on.”

Dirk piles them into a cab and Todd doesn’t puke in the back seat once, which he considers a win. By the time they get to his apartment he’s sobered up a bit and feels less like he’s going to die, although he’s also sober enough now to realize that tomorrow’s hangover will be infinitely worse than anything the universe can throw at him tonight.

“That guy can really drink,” he groans, lying down on the couch. Dirk fusses with his shoes, head down. “What’s your deal with him, anyway? You wouldn’t shut up about him for months and then you treated him like he had some kind of communicable disease back there.”

Then all of a sudden he remembers what Archie had said and he sits bolt upright, almost kicking Dirk in the face. “And he wasn’t just some friend! He was your _assistant_. Am I his replacement?”

Dirk grimaces. “No?” he offers.

“Try again,” Todd says darkly.

“Kind of?” Dirk lets out a frustrated sigh. “Look, just… drink some water and go to bed. You’re incredibly drunk—”

“As are you,” Todd interrupts.

“—And as such neither of us should be having this conversation.” Dirk crosses his arms. “I’m going back to my place now. I’ll see you in the morning.”

-

Todd eventually pries himself off the couch and falls into bed, but he doesn’t sleep well, plagued by bizarre dreams of he and Archie fighting gladiator-style in an arena for Dirk’s amusement. When he wakes up he’s surly about both the dreams and the hangover, and also the fact that Dirk left one of his shoes on the night before.

He makes coffee, and by the time Dirk knocks on his door he almost feels like he can stand up for more than ten seconds without getting dizzy. It isn’t a great prognosis, though, so instead of answering the door he yells, “Come in, it’s unlocked.”

Dirk pushes the door open and sticks his head inside. “Ah, you’re alive.”

“Yes, no thanks to your friend,” Todd says, scowling.

“Things can get a bit… out of hand with Archie,” Dirk agrees, taking his jacket off and hanging it by the door. He shuts the door quietly. “He does like to have a good time.”

Todd eyes him over the rim of his mug. Dirk’s usual favourite place for his jacket is ‘wherever it lands when I throw it’ and Todd can’t remember the last time he knocked on the door instead of barging in.

“I suppose you learned this during his assistant-ship in Los Angeles,” Todd says waspishly.

Dirk winces. “I may have a tiny confession to make.” He sits down across from Todd. He looks unreasonably put-together for someone who drank more than Todd did the previous night.

His hair is perfectly styled and he’s wearing the tie with pineapples on it, whereas Todd is still in his boxers and is pretty sure his hair looks like a raccoon slept in it.

“You’re not the first assistant I’ve had,” Dirk says, steepling his fingers together.

Todd lifts his eyebrows. “No shit.”

“In fact, you’re not even the first assistant.-slash-friend,” Dirk goes on. Todd is starting to get angry.

“How many have you had?”

“A few,” Dirk says evasively.

“Were they all like Archie?”

“In what way?” Now he’s avoiding eye contact.

“ _Nice_ ,” Todd growls.

He squirms. “I suppose so, yes.”

“Have you been bringing him up on purpose to make me nicer?” Todd says, positively glowering.

“No!” Dirk exclaims. “But I did kind of figure out what you were doing. I actually, uh, looked Archie up and found out he was coming to Seattle because I wanted you to meet him.”

“Why?” Todd whines, dropping his forehead to the table. “He’s basically the perfect human being. He’s everything I’m not. I don’t understand.”

“Exactly!” Dirk smacks his hands on the edge of the table, startling him upright. “I was trying to make you feel better.”

“By introducing me to your previous best friend, who’s superior to me in every way? He’s good-looking, he’s got a steady job and an expensive watch, he’s fun and nice—”

“You see, why would I want to be his best friend?” Dirk blurts out. “He makes _me_ look bad, and I’m a good person! The guy gives to charity, for goodness sakes. Just because someone’s perfect doesn’t mean they’re the perfect friend. I had to make up a family emergency and run off to Seattle to escape _perfect_ Archie.”

He grabs Todd’s hand off the table. “I like you for _you_ , Todd, and I thought you’d figured that out by now.”

Todd stares at him.

“I’m a jerk,” he says, palms sweaty. “But I make you look better?”

“No! Well, yes. But maybe I also like that you’re a bit of a misanthropic bastard,” Dirk confesses, his cheeks going cherry red. He’s still holding Todd’s hand. “Also, I think you’re better looking.”

Todd can’t help it; he starts to laugh.

“What?” Dirk demands. “What did I say?”

“We’re both insecure idiots,” he manages. “I guess we’re meant to be best friends.”

“Well, I’m glad you’ve come around,” Dirk says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I mean, you faked a sick relative and left the city just to get away from this normal guy who wanted to be your friend—” he giggles. “That’s so classic. That’s so _me_.”

Todd gets himself under control with some effort and wipes at his eyes. “Good thing I didn’t try to be too nice. You might’ve fucked off to Alaska next.”

“Couldn’t do it. Hate the cold.” Dirk makes a face. “Plus, what would Farah do without me?”

“You’re an ass,” Todd tells him.

“Glad you noticed,” Dirk says happily. “Now drink your coffee—I want to get jelly donuts.”

Todd drinks his coffee. “I feel like crap. You’re buying, since the universe hasn’t punished you with a hangover.”

“Technically,” Dirk begins, holding up his hand.

“—Farah’s buying,” Todd finishes for him.

 

 

 

 


End file.
